


To Make a Sweet Lady Sad is a Sour Offense

by naegkawa



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Anal Sex, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Service Top Peter, Trans Peter Nureyev, he just wants to get fucked ok, juno is a very shy and awkward dom please give him a break, like he's a huge simp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24802831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naegkawa/pseuds/naegkawa
Summary: Peter's job is simple: seduce a young man in order to steal information about the Curemother Prime. Juno, however, is less than pleased with the results and he is hellbent on showing it.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 10
Kudos: 131





	To Make a Sweet Lady Sad is a Sour Offense

**Author's Note:**

> pls be nice to me it's so hard to write porn without it being cased within 50 layers of poetry
> 
> Title taken from Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida

It had all started earlier that day, when Nureyev had gone on another mission with Juno. (“You won’t  _ always _ be together, you know. This is a one-man job. He needs to look single,” Buddy reminded them.) The goal of this one was simple: procure an invitation to an exclusive, small garden party where they would then steal the first edition of an old, scientific journal discussing the Curemother Prime. It was a  _ true  _ rarity, and this was the only copy they knew they could secure. In order to do so, he needed to charm a Mister Alastair Bellisario, a young man who often threw little parties filled with beautiful men he knew personally, and a few close friends. The gatherings were always  _ just  _ intimate enough for an unfamiliar face to stick out. Therefore, Nureyev had to make himself a familiar face. Or, moreso Priam Silk, needed to make himself a familiar face.

He stood in the mirror, looking at himself before looking back at Juno, who was lying on Nureyev’s bed, savoring him with every glance. “How do I look, Juno, dear?”  _ Perfect.  _ Which was… true. He wore an open poet’s blouse, exposing his defined collarbones and cut low to expose  _ just  _ enough of his chest. It was carelessly draping off of one shoulder, playfully oversized so it poofed out when it was tucked into the royal purple corset. “Could you lace me up just a  _ tad  _ tighter? I want to be  _ dripping  _ with appeal, you know.”

“I know,” Juno sighed, letting his hands stay on Peter’s waist a bit longer than necessary after tying him. “So, is that your whole plan, then? Look so  _ goddamned  _ hot that Bellisario has no choice  _ but  _ to invite you to his garden party?”

“Oh, Juno, darling,” Nureyev cupped Juno’s face in his hands and placed a kiss on his crooked nose. “Of course not. I also need to flirt my ass off. Me being hot is… a necessary addition.”

Juno rolled his eye, before Nureyev kissed him deeply, letting it linger, his hands tightening around his coat. He pulled away and smiled. “Don’t be jealous, dear, it’s only for a  _ performance _ , you know,” Juno opened his mouth to protest, before Nureyev cut him off again. “And don’t say you  _ aren’t _ , I can sense that look in your eye from a mile away.”

“You can be real annoying, you know that?” he huffed. “Just make sure you don’t… dawdle too much. If you give Bellisario too much, too quickly, he’ll lose interest. You have to  _ tease _ but just the right amount.”

“Oh, I never give  _ too much, too quickly,  _ Juno. You know better than anyone how good I am at teasing,” mischief glinted in his pretty eyes; a sharp-tooth smirk smeared across his face.

“You gave me your most heavily guarded secret after just meeting me,” Juno quipped back, though fondness was apparent in his voice, his mannerisms, his everything.

“What can I say? You’re  _ special _ ,” he winked before heading out the door to embark on his mission.

Juno listened to the mission on his comms, hearing every word the two exchanged. He didn’t know  _ why  _ he loved to antagonize himself so much, listening to Alastair’s delicate laughter. He could picture him perfectly— the research gave a pretty clear image. An  _ impeccably  _ beautiful boy, 24 years of age, with perfect skin and fluffy, burgundy curls. He walked on the balls of his feet and moved as if he was always dancing. Alastair playfully ran his fingers across Priam Silk’s shoulders, and flirted.

“Oh, aren’t you just  _ divine,  _ dear? I don’t usually find myself  _ fawning  _ over men like this, but you’ve got all the makings of a future silver fox, Priam,” he would flirt. And Priam would flirt back. Nureyev was probably  _ pissed  _ about the age comment— he felt so insecure about growing older— but he internalized any signs of discomfort or offense. There was more flirting, and an escort to the outside cabana of the gala and then  _ kissing  _ and Juno huffed. It was acting, of course, and he  _ knew  _ it was, but he still didn’t have to like what he heard.

He discussed the name Priam (an old Trojan king from Ancient Earth history) and continued to flirt. And then he procured the invitation, and mentioned how he had to head home soon, giving him a swift kiss goodbye before leaving to board the Carte Blanche again. When Peter reentered his room, Juno was sprawled on the foot of his bed, obviously awaiting his arrival.

“Oh, hello, Juno,” Nureyev emptied his pockets of a few stolen valuables, things the uber wealthy wouldn’t miss  _ all  _ too much. Things likely to have just been dropped. He slipped one of the bracelets onto his wrist, mindlessly inspecting it and  _ purposefully  _ avoiding Juno. A game he had decided to play. “Tell me, dear, what are your thoughts on this?” he faced him and held his wrist out and Juno  _ smelled  _ it on his wrist. That cologne. He wore it so much less often now, but it hit him where it counted every single time.

“It’s… nice, I guess,” he closed his eye to breathe in the scent more. “I didn’t see you apply it, you little sneak.”

“One of my many talents, you see. I am far more than a pretty face,” he smiled and pulled his wrist away from Juno, placing the bracelet back on the dresser. He was leaning over Juno now, causing the former PI to catch an  _ obvious  _ hint at how… intimate his mission had gotten. A small bruise, fresh and reddish-violet, placed at the crook of his neck. This immediately caused Juno’s expression to sour.

“Bellisario sure got  _ friendly,  _ didn’t he?” he sulked. “Really wanted a taste of what Priam Silk had to offer, huh?”

Peter furrowed his brow and sighed, cupping Juno’s cheek with one hand, feeling the light stubble brush against his palm. “And I gracefully  _ moderated  _ it, Juno. I had to tease the right amount, didn’t I? Give him something to leave him wanting more? Don’t tell me you’re upset that I was doing my job, hm?”

“Of course I’m not upset,” Juno replied, very clearly upset. “That would be stupid, alright? I just wasn’t expecting a  _ bite mark  _ on your neck. It wasn’t in the briefing.”

Peter smiled and flashed his pretty teeth once more as he slid the hand from Juno’s cheek to his chin and tilted it up. “Have I upset you, dear? It wasn’t my intention, you know, to make you  _ jealous  _ like that. Though, I must admit, the pouty jealousy suits you, as  _ irritating  _ as it may be to see you sulk.”

“Oh, it’s  _ irritating  _ to see me sulking over you? I thought you would like the boost to your ego, Nureyev,” a smile cracked on Juno’s face, before he quickly frowned again. It was  _ his  _ turn to play games now. “Doesn’t it? Seeing a lady all pissy because you were being some rich twink’s boy toy for the evening?”

“Bitter, love? Such a sweet lady, so pouty. Surely, I have offended,” Peter teased while sitting himself onto Juno’s lap and placing a ghost of a kiss onto his jawline. “To make a sweet lady sad is a sour offense.”

“You’re going to quote a playwright over a thousand years dead, Nureyev?” Juno tried not to let his breath hitch as Peter’s lips just  _ barely  _ brushed against his skin. His breath was still there, warm and sending shivers up his spine. “But yes, you  _ are,  _ actually. That hickey pisses me off just looking at it. Wear a turtleneck or something.”

Peter stuck out his bottom lip in a mocking pout, arching his head to further expose his pale, slender neck,  _ waiting  _ for it to be bitten. He looked  _ smug _ and that’s what made Juno tick. When he  _ knew  _ he was hot. When he  _ knew  _ how badly Juno wanted him. “Can I steal one of yours then, dear? They’re not exactly something I would purchase for myself. You will have to help me unlace though first. I could do it myself, but it’s much easier for you to do it for me.”

He let his fingers brush under Juno’s chin lightly before pulling them away as he pulled himself from the other’s lap. He looked back at Juno on the bed expectantly. Without thought, Juno rose from his position, and wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist. Peter felt Juno’s mouth on his neck, then his  _ teeth _ , hard enough to pry a moan from his mouth before he could bother trying to suppress it. He attacked the spot a bit longer, sucking and pulling the skin before he pulled away, and a dark reddish violet bruise was left in its place. He turned Nureyev around to face him, and the next strike was where his neck met his collarbone, that beautifully gentle curve. Juno moved up his neck to right underneath his jaw. Peter  _ liked  _ this spot; he knew he did.

So Juno paid it extra attention, darting his tongue out between tiny bites of varying pressure. He liked hearing Peter’s content sighs, the way he started off strategically letting out moans, as if he were putting on a performance. He  _ loved  _ when Peter, every time, eventually lost himself too much in the moment to focus on putting a show. This moment came about twenty hickeys in, when Juno lost track of which one was not left by him. (The answer was quite obvious: Juno’s were far  _ darker  _ and left with much more intention.)

“Juno, darling,” he grabbed hold of his face once more. “Aren’t I the one who committed the offense? Shouldn’t I focus on making it up to  _ you _ rather than you devoting so much time to me?”

“I was making a  _ statement,  _ Nureyev,” he said and admired his work. “And I did a pretty alright job if I may say so myself.”

“That you did. A fair point to make. I am yours, sweet lady,” his voice was soft and flowing; Juno felt as if the words were floating and dancing in the air like flecks of dust in the sunlight. “May I kiss you and alleviate the wounds I have so  _ carelessly  _ inflicted upon you?”

“Shut up,” Juno scoffed, as Peter tugged him closer and into a deep kiss. His long, thin hands traced across Juno’s neck, across his shoulders, down his back. He took very little time in removing the turtleneck Juno was wearing, taking care of it as he discarded it to the floor (Juno knew that sweater was one of Peter’s favorites to steal, and most likely the one he was going to prance around the ship in tomorrow, so cute and smug, as if he were flaunting the fact that he was sleeping with Juno). His fingers toyed with the delicate, golden chain around his neck from which a tiny Magen David hung and caught the tiny glint of artificial light. Peter undid the tiny clasp, kissing along Juno’s neck as he did so. Gingerly, he set the necklace on the nightstand where he would be able to find it easily again.

Juno watched his actions adoringly, the way Peter moved with such grace, the way his sharp teeth caught the light, the softness of his voice when he next spoke. “So,  _ sweet  _ lady,” Peter kneels down, grabbing Juno’s hands and tenderly laying kisses on his palms. “How may I fill my fair lady’s fair mind with  _ fair  _ thoughts?”

“You’re full of  _ fair  _ words today, aren’t you, Nureyev?” he sneered, though a smile flickered onto his face. He saw the way Nureyev melted at his smile, and warmth built up in his stomach. He didn’t quite  _ enjoy  _ being in charge so often, he much preferred to be the one following orders (or, in his case more often,  _ not  _ following them until Nureyev had him against a wall). Juno took a poignant pause between voicing his demands. “I want you to apologize for taking such  _ joy  _ out of working me up like that. You didn’t seem too upset at  _ all  _ when you realized I was jealous.”

“My sweet Juno,” Peter, still on his knees, pulled Juno closer to the edge of the bed and placed kisses along his stomach and hip, his hand lightly going in circles around his lower back. Juno let himself release a sigh of content. “I do apologize most sincerely for my actions. It simply is so… difficult to not get carried away when I see such beauty in your face when you care. That stern look in your eye, the  _ strong _ outline of your clenched jaw. The way I know you care so earnestly for  _ me _ . God, you really  _ are  _ so breathtakingly beautiful, Juno.”

Juno felt his face grow hot, as well as every other goddamn part of his body. He scoffed, trying to shove off how much the praise affected him. “You’re just trying to flatter me.”

“For what senseless purpose, dear? To get in your pants? No offense, but I don’t think I need flattery to get there,” his long, spidery hands brushed against the inside of Juno’s thighs, then up to where a clear erection was growing. “I like to praise you. The way your face softens at the compliments makes you even more… magnificent. I cannot fathom a more beautiful sight than you. Every curve of your body, every muscle that tenses up and relaxes as I continue to run my finger along your spine. No one else is so… finely crafted.”

To Juno, it felt like Nureyev naturally spoke in fine poetry poured out in loving gestures and artistic praise. He continued to wax poetic about every bit of Juno he found worth of love and adoration, kissing up and down every inch of his body that had been exposed. Then, he looked up at Juno with dark, wanting eyes.

“May I, sweet lady, show my appreciation in actions rather than in excessive words. I fear I am becoming long-winded,” he chuckled and his cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink. “If you tire of my voice, I may otherwise occupy my mouth.”

“I love your voice,” it slipped out from him in a half-whisper, deep and raspy. “Um. But… please. You know, actions speaking louder than words, or something like that.”

This was the stark difference between him and Peter: a matter of character. Peter was confident in his demands, in what he wanted. He could always put on a show for Juno. Sex was not a  _ performance,  _ perse, but rather a way for him to display the true Peter Nureyev that no one but Juno had the privilege of seeing. Juno was… different. He was honest, almost awkward with his desire. He knew what he wanted, yes, but voicing it was always much harder. And somehow, even in a place of submission, Nureyev could get him to beg.

“Juno,” Nureyev begins to untie the ribbon belt of the pleated pants Juno was wearing. “Tell me, please, what you would like me to do. After all, I  _ am _ here currently to serve you. What do you want?”

“Your  _ mouth, _ Nureyev,” he replied, wrapped one hand around Peter’s chin and tilted it towards your own. “You have a very pretty mouth, and you’re good with it. I want your  _ mouth  _ on me. Please.”

Both of them chuckled at the please. A force of habit from him, when Peter often made him beg over and over again for any touching or release, as a way to try to  _ fix his bad manners.  _ But Peter nodded at the request, and slipped off Juno’s trousers, still leaving him in his underwear, his hand oh-so- _ delicately  _ tracing up and down the now blatant bulge of Juno’s dick.

There was something about the way Nureyev touched him. It was a ghost of a touch, which made him want it more and more. He had always been an expert at leaving Juno wanting  _ more. _ “You’re being a tease,” he tried to stop the whine his body was trying to let out.

“Am I?” he tilted his head, fully aware of what he was doing. “My apologies, Juno, I do just adore seeing how you squirm under such gentle touches. It truly is beautiful,” he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Juno’s boxer-briefs. “Ah, but this is quite an uneven situation, isn’t it? So awkward, to be fully dressed when you have everything exposed, isn’t it?”

“Then strip,” Juno managed to find some authority in his voice as he eyed Peter’s body up and down. Peter’s body was an antithesis of his own, which became apparent as he slipped off his poet’s blouse and began to unbutton his high-waisted pants. Juno was built of soft lines, muscle and fat creating some bulk. Peter was sharp and angular, several of his bones pronounced (Juno often had to keep himself from salivating at the sight of his hips). He pulled Nureyev closer to him, kissing his inner thigh. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you, darling,” Nureyev smiled, and pulled at the waistband of his own underwear. Soft, made of something soft and breathable with delicate lace detailing. “Would you like to take these off for me, or should I remove them myself?” 

“Keep them on for now,” Juno replied, enjoying the sight. “I’ll take them off before you fuck me,” his voice rose in pitch as he finished his sentence, already enamored with the vision of Nureyev in his harness, that same eager-to-please expression on his face that he had been wearing all night.

Nureyev cocked an eyebrow before bowing his head and kneeling once again. “As you wish, my sweet lady,” he cooed before he focused his attention on Juno’s underwear again. “Do I have permission to remove these?”

“Yes,” Juno spoke through an exhale as Peter slipped off the boxers and took Juno’s cock in his hand, flicking his tongue over the tip, looking up at him with that same look in his eyes.

“Such a beautiful lady, a magnificent man,” Peter said before he took Juno in his mouth, letting out a content hum as he did so. Juno let out a soft moan, placing his own hand over his mouth to stifle it.

He watched as Peter bobbed his head up and down, felt every controlled pause and careful tongue movement. The pleasure caused his hips to jerk unexpectedly, and Peter to momentarily take more of him in his mouth for a moment, before pulling back to a more comfortable depth, and then with a small _pop_ , he removed his mouth from his dick, though he kept his head near, still flicking his tongue strategically across him, eliciting a whine from Juno.

“Why did you stop, Nureyev?” he squirmed a bit. “Are you okay?” his voice was brimming with just a hint of concern that he had hurt his jaw or something similar because he had gotten too into it.

“I just like to make things last, is all,” he says, pulling away and grabbing the bottle on his vanity. “You mentioned that you wanted me to fuck you, yes?”

“Yes,” Juno replied. “I’m surprised you know how to listen,” he chuckled a bit at his own joke, and smiled when he heard the ghost of a giggle in Nureyev’s voice.

“Well then, sweet lady, may I?”

“You may,” Juno nodded, as he watched Peter  _ stride  _ to the box by his bed where he kept his… collection, as Juno would too-coyly put it. The one he chose tonight was a favorite of Juno’s, easy enough to take and with a pleasant texture. A nice curve to it, and one that seemed to fit Nureyev like a  _ glove _ .

Peter poured a healthy amount of lubricant, slicking up his fingers before he slipped one into Juno, focusing his other hand and his mouth back onto his cock, playfully using his tongue and the warmth of his breath. Juno couldn’t suppress the moan that too-eagerly jumped out of his mouth.

“Such lovely moans, darling,” Peter was slow and sweet with his movements and warned Juno he was going to add another finger. The addition caused a tiny hiss before it melted into another groan sourced from deep within him. He scissored his fingers as he nearly pulled them out, before slipping them back in, curling them.

Juno rolled his hips into Peter’s hands with a very cute kind of desperation, all the while Peter sung his praises. Making eye contact with Nureyev was almost overwhelming for him, given how strongly love and desire mixed within his gaze. His face was flushed, his eyes half-lidded. He bit his lips in between his words. “You’re so  _ gorgeous,  _ my love. Such a sweet lady. Such a  _ wonderful  _ lady, treating me so well.”

Peter removed his fingers, drawing a needy whine from Juno, who— remembering that he was in the position of power this time— cleared his throat. “I didn’t say  _ stop,  _ Nureyev. I was enjoying myself.”

“My most sincere apologies, sweet lady,” Nureyev placed his hand to his upper chest, allowing his fingers to  _ just  _ brush past his lips. “I only figured you would prefer for me to fuck you rather than just finger you. Eager little love.”

Juno cast his glance away from Nureyev, somehow feeling himself grow even warmer. “You… have a point. Then, fuck me. Please. I mean— now?”

Peter couldn’t hide the loving smile on his face as he shook his head. “Now you know why I so often take charge, Juno. You’re  _ terrible  _ at being dominant.”

“Hey,” he sulked. “I am  _ not  _ terrible. I’m just more… used to you giving orders. It isn’t  _ nice  _ to make fun of me. I’m trying.”

Peter placed a kiss to his jawline. “Try… harder,” mischief glinted in his eye. He was  _ trying  _ to get Juno irritated. “If you would, my sweet lady.”

“Seeing you on your knees is  _ really  _ fucking hot, but I want you to lie down,” Juno rose from the bed, clearing a spot for him and grabbing the bottle of lubricant. Peter cocked an eyebrow and did as he was told. “It’s also  _ very  _ hot to see you underneath me. Would you like that, Nureyev? To be underneath your  _ fair  _ lady?”

Nureyev let out a dreamy sigh. “Yes, sweet lady. Whatever you like,” he bit his lip again and more blood rushed to his face as he watched Juno pour the lube into his hand and slowly run it up and down the length of the strap. Juno slid his hand a bit lower, taking pleasure in the wetness that he knew did not come from the lubricant.

“And you said  _ I  _ was eager,” Juno whispered into his ear, straddling over him. “So,  _ Nureyev,”  _ his name sounded like a prayer from Juno’s lips. The way he dragged out the soft  _ v  _ at the end, so Peter could see the way his teeth scraped past his full, bottom lip. “Are you ready to make it up to me?”

“Of course, my  _ sweetest _ lady, my wonderful goddess,” he cooed, his voice cracking as he spoke. Juno slowly lowered himself onto him and let out a groan that came  _ deep  _ from his chest. His eye stayed fixed onto Peter, glazed over with lust as he started to slowly roll his hips, taking more of him slowly. More praise tumbled from Peter’s lips.

“God, it’s  _ so  _ nice when you praise me,” Juno said through a moan. “For a second I almost believe it. Don’t stop.”

Peter let out a soft moan and moved his hips, a motion which caused Juno to tilt his head back and let out a slow and breathy  _ Fuck.  _ “You really are  _ divine,  _ my love. Truly and utterly  _ beautiful.  _ I would love nothing more than to continue to please you, sweet lady, just so I could continue hearing your moans.”

Juno let another one of those well-beloved noises slip from his mouth as he continued to ride Nureyev. He was a very loud lover, much to the chagrin of the other members of the Carte Blanche and its  _ irritatingly  _ thin walls, but he could stop himself from getting louder when he felt  _ this _ good. When Peter started to move his hips as well in tandem with Juno’s own motions, he bit his hand to try to conceal the almost-scream from such a  _ powerful  _ wave of pleasure. “Fuck,  _ Nureyev _ . Please,  _ God,”  _ he panted out.

Juno felt the pressure continue to build, every movement sending shocks through his entire body. There was always this moment right before he came where he felt his mind slip away almost entirely. As if the only thing that existed in that very moment was  _ Peter Nureyev  _ and his every blessed moment. And here, having him so  _ close  _ to cumming, Juno blocked any thoughts from his mind. The only thing that existed in that very moment were the lovely praises filling his ears and Peter’s cock filling… well, the rest of him.

With one strained, almost breathless,  _ Nureyev,  _ Juno rode out his orgasm, cum leaking onto Nureyev’s stomach. He took a few ragged breaths, his face resting on Peter’s marked up chest and his shaky legs still straddled over him, though now removed from the strap-on. Feeling as if his legs were to give out on him at any moment, he rolled off of Peter and onto his side, still looking at his thief with adoration in his eyes.

Peter removed the harness, setting it aside to clean later before he went back to bed, cradling Juno in his arms, mindlessly playing with his hair. Juno leaned up to kiss his jawline and let out a breathy sigh. His hands traced along every hickey he placed on his body, as if he were connecting stars to create constellations along his neck, chest, and back.

“Say, Nureyev,” a bit of laughter poured out in his words. “When exactly is this garden party with the target again? The one you’re supposed to, um, be seducing.”

“Three days, my love,” he pulled Juno closer, his hands running down Juno’s chest. “I am going to have to  _ bathe  _ in concealer to cover up your… possessive tendencies, hm? Otherwise, that would be  _ quite  _ the story to explain, would it not?”

“Just tell Bellisario you’re in  _ hot  _ demand,” Juno ran his calloused hands down Peter’s back, smiling when his breath sputtered as Juno traced lightly down his lower back.

“I’m sure the captain would be  _ thrilled  _ to hear you say that,” he teased back. “I doubt she’ll be very happy to see such… careless disregard for her careful planning, you know.”

“Mmm…” Juno winced a bit, but he continued to place gentle kisses to Peter’s shoulder and chest. “Maybe you should stick to wearing my turtlenecks then. See how long we can hide them from her.”


End file.
